By the rivers of Babylon

 Pss.137

[1] By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
[2] We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
[3] For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
[4] How shall we sing the LORD's song in a strange land?
[5] If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
[6] If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
[7] Remember, O LORD, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.
[8] O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed; happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.
[9] Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones.

Psalmii
Capitolul 137

1Pe malurile râurilor Babilonului, şedeam jos şi plângeam când ne aduceam aminte de Sion.
2În sălciile din ţinutul acela ne atârnaserăm harpele.
3Căci, acolo, biruitorii noştri ne cereau cântări şi asupritorii* noştri ne cereau bucurie zicând: „Cântaţi-ne câteva din cântările Sionului!”
* Ps 79:1
4Cum să cântăm noi cântările Domnului pe un pământ străin?
5Dacă te voi uita, Ierusalime, să-şi uite dreapta mea destoinicia ei!
6Să mi se lipească limba* de cerul gurii dacă nu-mi voi aduce aminte de tine, dacă nu voi face din Ierusalim culmea bucuriei mele!
* Ezec 3:26
7Adu-Ţi aminte, Doamne, de copiii* Edomului, care, în ziua nenorocirii Ierusalimului, ziceau: „Radeţi-l, radeţi-l din temelii!”
* Ier 49:7 Plang 4:22 Ezec 25:12 Obad 1:10
8Ah! fiica Babilonului, sortită pustiirii*, ferice de cine-ţi** va întoarce la fel răul pe care ni l-ai făcut!
* Isa 13:1 Isa 13:6 Ier 25:12 Ier 50:2 ** Ier 50:15 Ier 50:29 Apoc 18:6
9Ferice de cine va apuca pe pruncii tăi şi-i va zdrobi* de stâncă!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFAQ59Ug88E&ab_channel=BoneyMVEVO

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down
Yeah we wept, when we remembered Zion
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down
Yeah we wept, when we remembered Zion

When the wicked carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
Now, how shall we sing the Lord's song
In a strange land?

When the wicked carried us away in captivity
Requiring of us a song
Now, how shall we sing the Lord's song
In a strange land?

Let the words of our mouth
And the meditation of our heart
Be acceptable in Thy sight, here tonight

Let the words of our mouth
And the meditation of our heart
Be acceptable in thy sight, here tonight

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down
Yeah we wept, when we remembered Zion
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down
Yeah we wept, when we remembered Zion

#BoneyM  #RiversOfBabylon 

Pe malurile râurilor Babilonului

Autor: Șerban Lavinia  

Pe malurile râurilor Babilonului
stăm jos și plângem.
În sălciile din ținutul acesta ne-am atârnat arfele,
 încet, ne stingem.

Asupritorii cer cântări și veselie,
dar duhul ne e împietrit.
Cum să cântăm Domnului pe un pământ străin,
când bine știm că am păcătuit?

O, mult râvnita noastră bucurie,
cât de amar ne-am înșelat...
Cum ne-am vândut făgăduințele, pentru robie!
Dar oare, le-am uitat?

Uităm și harul când ne-apasă vina? Nu!
Strângem arfele-napoi,
să răscolească Babilonul imnuri de-nchinare,
cântăm lui Dumnezeu, nu despre noi.

Iar El e vrednic de adorare
chiar și de jos din Babilon.
Să strige pietrele mai tare
 decât o inimă de om?

Și ce folos de lacrimile noastre,
de nu-nsoțesc pocăința?
De ce să stăm înfrânți, căzuți pe cale,
când iar ne-ar ridica credința?

Lui Israel, Dumnezeu i-a păstrat țara,
ca după șaptezeci de ani să se întoarcă...
Din filă în filă îndeamnă Scriptura:
ridică-te și laudă-L, te-așteaptă! 

By the Waters of Babylon (1882-1883) by Evelyn De Morgan (30 August 1855 – 2 May 1919), née Pickering (Prerafaelites)

De ce nu-mi vii?

Mihai Eminescu - De ce nu-mi vii

Vezi, rândunelele se duc, 
Se scutur frunzele de nuc, 
S-aşează bruma peste vii -
De ce nu-mi vii, de ce nu-mi vii? 

O, vino iar în al meu braţ, 
Să te privesc cu mult nesaţ, 
Să razim dulce capul meu
De sânul tău, de sânul tău! 

Ţi-aduci aminte cum pe-atunci
Când ne primblam prin văi şi lunci, 
Te ridicam de subsuori
De-atâtea ori, de-atâtea ori? 

În lumea asta sunt femei
Cu ochi ce izvorăsc scântei... 
Dar, oricât ele sunt de sus, 
Ca tine nu-s, ca tine nu-s! 

Căci tu înseninezi mereu
Viaţa sufletului meu, 
Mai mândră decât orice stea, 
Iubita mea, iubita mea! 

Târzie toamnă e acum, 
Se scutur frunzele pe drum, 
Şi lanurile sunt pustii... 
De ce nu-mi vii, de ce nu-mi vii?

https://youtu.be/1I-AHN-UH9Q
Angela Gheorghiu - Dima: De ce nu-mi vii - recital in Los Angeles, March 2013

Mi-am amintit de poezia asta privind tablourile cu natură statică, în care tema principală o constituie strugurii, pictate de americanul Corrado Pali

Summer vine

 Antique still life II

Antique still life III

Late autumn fruit basket

Fruit bouquet I

Delicious grapes

European dinning decor

Antiques still life I

Fruit Bouquet II

When I get over you

Unii spun că ieșirea la pensie deprimă pentru că dispare dintrodată activitatea...Oi fi eu mai specială poate, dar pentru mine pensia a fost o oprtunitate de a călători (nu neapărat pe puținii mei bani) și de a mă ocupa de ce mă pasionează....citi, dezlegat cuvinte încrucișate cât mai complicate, Sudoku, mai nou calculator și fotografii.

Am avut într-o vreme și pasiunea de a face ppsuri și de a scrie pe blog...dar acestea, helas, au dispărut sau s-au diminuat odată cu creșterea activită ții pe face book, unde deasemenea mi-am găsit de lucru traducând texte și poezii din coreeană, fără să cunosc limba. Sigur, nu mă pot lăuda că înțeleg chiar tot și sunt sigură că am făcut de multe ori gafe, dar oamenii au fost politicoși și nu au râs...

De la ppsuri mi se trage și pasiunea de a alcătui albume cu tablouri, cele mai multe sortate pe pictori, dar am și unele pe teme. Mă entuziasmez și mă bucur când descopăr câte un artist care îmi place mult (am și pe lista de prieteni câțiva) și atunci stau ore în șir și caut alte și alte tablouri...

Nu odată s-a întâmplat ca Google să recomande operele altor artiști și numai faptul că mi s-a format capacitatea de a discerne stilul artistului, chiar dacă variază în timp mă ajută să nu fac false atribuiri...deși se mai întâmplă, dar foarte rar. 

Aseară am ascultat un cântec, apoi you tube l-a schimbat automat cu altul, de pe playlista lui și așa am ajuns la un video cu picturi care mi-au acaparat sufletul. Pentru că a fost specificată artista am început să caut tablouri de ea, alcătuind albumul care acompaniază versurile cântecului având grijă să încarc tablourile în ordinea în care apar pe video.

Randy Crawford ~ When I Get Over You

https://youtu.be/DfBtPp39JAQ

Everybody sees some changes
Everybody sheds a skin or two
You won't recognize me
When i get over you
Unattended dreams will breathe life
All my wishes will come true
And there'll be time for everything
When I get over you
When I get over you
The sky will still be blue
And I'll swim there if I want to
When I get over you
I'm setting free the monkey
I'm setting free the lions too
Yesterday's child will grow up wild
When i get over you
When i get over you
The sky will still be blue
And I'll swim there if I want to
When I get over you
I'll be wearing a fairy-tale
I'll walk in glass high-heeled shoes
And there'll be a moral to the story
When i get over you
I'll be the life of the party
I'll misbehave and act the fool
I won't care who knows me
When i get over you
When i get over you
The sky will still be blue
And i'll swim there if i want to
When i get over you
When i get over you
Yeah
The skies will still be blue
I said i'll swim there if i want to
When i get over you...

01Tthe Celestial Cconsonance

02 Upon Infinity

03 Castele de nisip

04 Virgo - from zodiac series

05 Back in Time

06  Ethereal thoughts

07 Another Kind of Rhapsody

08. A Heaven For Two 

 09. Scorpio - from zodiac series

10. Counting Stars

 11Touching the Ephemeral

12 Harboring Dreams

13 In a Half-Forgotten Dream

14 Sometimes I Feel soTemporary

 15. Poem of Twilight

Painter: Dorina Costras, România.

Postare de pe face book https://www.facebook.com/viorica.munteanu3

Estas Tonne - Place Of The Gods - FULL ALBUM

Imi cer scuze pentru necunoscatorii de engleza. Chiar nu am timp sa traduc textul. Dar, daca puteti, incercati macar sa ascultati cum canta omul acesta. Sunetul e divin....

Estas Tonne is a modern day Troubadour. He was born in former USSR where he trained in classical guitar for 6 years. He moved to Israel with his family and did not pick up a guitar again for 11 years.

Estas arrived in New York just after the tragedy of 9/11 with the intention of finding his true path. It was here that he rediscovered his passion to play guitar. Teaming up with the already established violinist virtuoso, Michael Shulman, he played across New York throughout 2002, culminating in a moving 9/11 anniversary concert in Union Square.

Since 2002 Estas went traveling and performing around the world, playing in the USA, Mexico,India,Israel and Europe, developing and refining a unique, diverse style that is shaped by the encounters of his journey. His music is exuberant, timeless yet inventive. It transcends cultural differences, speaks across generations, and inspires the heart of humanity.

In old times, traveling musicians spread the Light through their music and storytelling. Because we all have a choice, I choose to live my life in accordance with this timeless tradition. (E.T.)

Estas plays a 6-stringed acoustic guitar, using a remarkable finger picking technique that combines solo, rhythm and a continual walking base line, and amplification to create a powerful, reverberating sound. He plays his guitar as an orchestra in one instrument. His music explodes with passion and life, weaving elements of gypsy, classical, latin and rock to create a harmonious array of shifting melodies and emotions. At times his music is uplifting and joyous, at other times sad and melancholic. Always it is inspiring, magical, intoxicating and mesmerizing.

Over the last 7 years, Estas has captured a strong, underground following through performing street concerts and at festivals, clubs and other venues around the world. Since 2003 he has sold over 50,000 CDs and has more then 6000 fans in his contact list.

Estas is an extraordinarily gifted musician and storyteller, whose music flows from the heart and soul, with an alluring presence that appeals to a wide audience. 

Estas Tonne - Place Of The Gods - FULL ALBUM

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/estastonnemu...

Page : http://estastonne.bandcamp.com/

Track list :

1. The Winds Will Bring You Home 00:00

2. All Roads Lead to Rome/Jerusalem 8:33

3. Paris Heart 14:49

4. Snowing 18:21

5. Little Jarochero 20:30

6. Bohemian Skies 22:50

7. Cosmic Fairytale 28:36

8. Happiness Comes Back Again 39:03

9. Walking 43:10

10. Cuban Dance Intro 46:10

11. Cuban Dance 48:55

12. David's Entry 59:27

13. Place of the Gods 1:04:07

 

Invata de la toate...poezie de Traian Dorz.

Nu stiu de ce poeziile lui Traian Dorz sunt mereu atribuite altcuiva. Cel mai recent am citit acum cateva minute un poem de Charles Baudelaire publicat de o prietena , la care s-au adaugat doua versuri dintr-o foarte cunoscuta poezie de Traian Dorz...cunoscuta pentru ca e cantata de cantautori folkisti:

Învaţă de la toate

Învaţă de la apă să ai statornic drum,
Învaţă de la flăcări că toate-s numai scrum.
Învaţă de la umbră să taci şi să veghezi,
Învaţă de la stâncă cum neclintit să crezi.
Învaţă de la pietre cât trebuie să spui,
Învaţă de la soare cum trebuie s-apui.
Învaţă de la vântul ce-adie pe poteci,
Cum trebuie prin lume de liniştit să treci,
Învaţă de la toate, că toate-ţi sânt surori,
Să treci frumos prin viaţă, cum poţi frumos să mori.
Învaţă de la vierme că nimeni nu-i uitat,
Învaţă de la nufăr să fii mereu curat.
Învaţă de la flăcări ce-avem de ars în noi,
Învaţă de la apă să nu dai înapoi.
Învaţă de la umbră să fii smerit ca ea,
Învaţă de la stâncă să-nduri furtuna grea.
Învaţă de la soare ca vremea s-o cunoşti,
Învaţă de la stele că ceru-i numai oşti.
Învaţă de la greieri – când umerii ţi-s grei
Şi du-te la furnică să vezi povara ei.
Învaţă de la floare să fii gingaş cu ea,
Învaţă de la oaie să ai blândeţea sa.
Învaţă de la păsări să fii mai mult în zbor,
Învaţă de la toate, că totu-i trecător.
Ia seamă, fiu al jertfei, prin lumea-n care treci,
Să-nveţi din tot ce piere, cum să trăieşti în veci!

poezie de Traian Dorz

Sonetul cu pricina a fost publicat asa:

Charles Baudelaire - Reculegere

Cuminte fii durere, si mai ales fii calma...
Ce dor ti-era de seara si seara a venit
Esarfa-i violeta orasul a-nvelit
Dând unora nelinisti, altora vis, sa doarma!

Si-n vreme ce o gloata de muritori, o turma,
Sub bicele placerii-acest calau setos-
Culege-va tristetea într-un festin hidos,
Durere tu, da-mi mâna;ramâne-vom în urma,

Departe priveste cum se pleaca în haine peticite
Peste balcoane-n ceruri, toti anii de ispite
Iscând de prin adâncuri doar un regret ardent.

Iar soarele pe moarte s-a pustiit în pesteri
Si ca un lung lintoliu întins peste Orient,
Blândetea noptii-ascult-o, iubito, cum paseste!

Ia seama fiu al jertfei, prin lumea-n care treci
Sa-nveti din tot ce piere cum sa traiesti în veci!

Nu stiu cine a facut traducerea asta, eu am gasit alta, de Radu  Carneci:

ReculegereDurere, fii cuminte, reintră-n calm, frumoasă,
Doreai să vină Seara; priveşte-o cum coboară:
Peste oraş, tăcută, o atmosferă joasă,
Dând unora odihnă, la alţii grijă-amară.

În timp ce gloata lumii de vechi plăceri setoasă
Se lasă biciuită ca de-un călău, ocară
Şi remuşcări culege — serbare vicioasă —
Durerea mea, dă-mi mâna şi să fugim, fecioară,

Departe. Iată anii cei morţi cum se arată
Pridvoarelor de ceruri, în haină demodată,
Din ape-adânci Regretul, surâs opalescent

Şi Soarele se stinge sub arcul unui nor;
Da, draga mea, e noaptea sosindu-ne uşor
Precum un lung linţoliu sosind din Orient.

Si acum poemul original al lui Charles Baudelaire, de pe un site unde este tradus si in engleza


Recueillement

Sois sage, ô ma Douleur, et tiens-toi plus tranquille.
Tu réclamais le Soir; il descend; le voici:
Une atmosphère obscure enveloppe la ville,
Aux uns portant la paix, aux autres le souci.

Pendant que des mortels la multitude vile,
Sous le fouet du Plaisir, ce bourreau sans merci,
Va cueillir des remords dans la fête servile,
Ma Douleur, donne-moi la main; viens par ici,

Loin d'eux. Vois se pencher les défuntes Années,
Sur les balcons du ciel, en robes surannées;
Surgir du fond des eaux le Regret souriant;

Le soleil moribond s'endormir sous une arche,
Et, comme un long linceul traînant à l'Orient,
Entends, ma chère, entends la douce Nuit qui marche.

— Charles Baudelaire 

Un frumos video cu poezia transpusa pe muzica de Adriana Ausch

 

Seven Drunken Nights - The Dubliners

Sotul meu mi-a povestit de mult cat de tare il amuza povestea din cantecul acesta irlandez. E vorba de un betiv care vine acasa si gaseste in fiecare seara alte si alte dovezi ca in patul conjugal se afla alt barbat si o intreaba politicos pe nevasta ce e cu ele, dar ea il tot abureste cu explicatii incredibile, spunand ca mama ei i-a trimis tot felul de lucruri...

In prima seara ii spune ca nu e un cal ce vede el afara, ci o scroafa iar el se mira, pentru ca nu a vazut nicodata o scroafa cu sea. In a doua seara ii spune ca in cuier nu e o haina, ci o patura, iar el se mira de cand are patura  nasturi.

In a treia seara ii spune ca nu o pipa ce vede el pe scaun, ci un fluier iar el se mira ca in fluier este tutun. In a patra seara ea ii spune ca sub pat nu sunt doua ghete, ci doua ghivece cu muscate, iar el se mira de cand au ghivecele sireturi.

In a cincea seara ii spune ca in pat nu e alt cap inlocul capului sau de betiv, ci e un bebe, iar el se mira pentru ca nu a vazut niciodata un bebe cu favoriti. Ultimele doua strofe nu e politicos sa le explic, si in multe concerte, ca si in acesta, ele nici  nu se canta, ba uneori nici nu se transcriu cand se publica textul, eu insa l-am  gasit integral aici:

Seven Drunken Nights - The Dubliners

As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing where my old thing should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before

In Wikipedia am gasit urmatoarea explicatie:

"Seven Drunken Nights" is an Irish version of a humorous folk song most famously performed by The Dubliners. The song is often referred to as "Our Goodman". It tells the story of a gullible drunkard returning night after night to see new evidence of his wife's lover, only to be taken in by increasingly implausible explanations.

The structure and bawdy nature of the song allow it to be sung from memory by convivial companies. Among polite audiences only five of the seven nights usually are sung because of the vulgar nature of the final two. Each night is a verse, followed by a chorus, in which the narrator comes home in a drunken state to find evidence of another man having been with his wife, which she explains away, not entirely convincingly. The song also became part of American folk culture, both through Irish-Americans and through the blues tradition.

André Rieu - Waltzing Matilda

André Rieu e extraordinar...stie perfect cum sa cucereasca inimile spectatorilor, cum se poate vedea si din videoclipul de mai jos...Si cum eu am curiozitatea sa vad despre ce e vorba in cantec, am cautat si versurile acestui cantec, imnul neoficial al Australiei. Am gasit inatai versurile propriu zise, din care n-am inteles nimic. Dar exista un site dedicat lui Andre Rieu in care se explica pe larg si clar povestea si intelesul cantecului...



E vorba de un muncitor sezonier, care umbla din loc in loc cu bocceluta in spate ca sa-si caute de lucru. Bocceluta a fost botezata Matilda pt ca se presupune ca in ea se afla paturi care ii tin de cald calatorului precum o femeie. Deasemenea se presupune ca atunci cand se intalneau mai multi sezonieri si o puneau de un chef si aveau chef de dansat valsau cu bocceluta in brate in loc de femeie. 

Sezonierul din cantec a fost invinuit de un latifundiar ca ar fi furat o oaie (semisalbatica, suna explicatia) pe care ar fi ascuns-o in bocceluta si cand a venit politia sa il aresteze el s-a aruncat in lacul pe malul caruia se afla si de atunci fantoma lui bantuie locurile.

Mie cantecul acesta popular imi aduce in minte un alt cntec care ar putea fi imn national, de data asta al Irlandei, e vorba de veselul "Whisky in a jar". Cand l-am ascultat intr-un local din Dublin toti irlandezii din local il cantau in cor, impreuna cu solista.
 
André Rieu - Waltzing Matilda,

Waltzing Matilda" is Australia's most widely known folk song, and one that has been popularly suggested as a potential national anthem.

The original lyrics were written in 1895 by the poet and nationalist Banjo Paterson, and the music was written (based on a folk tune) by Christina Macpherson, who wrote herself that she "was no musician, but she would do her best." and it was first published as sheet music in 1903.

Extensive folklore surrounds the song and the process of its creation, to the extent that the song has its own museum, the Waltzing Matilda Centre in Winton, Queensland.

The song narrates the story of an itinerant worker making a crude cup of tea at a bush camp and stealing a sheep to eat. When the sheep's owner arrives with three police officers to arrest the worker, he drowns himself in a small lake and goes on to haunt the site.

Waltzing Matilda
A.B. Paterson and Mary Cowan

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong,
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda,with me?"

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me
And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

Down came a jumbuck to drink from the billabong,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag,
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred,
Down came the troopers, one, two, three,
"Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?"
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me"
"Where's that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?",
"You'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me".

Up jumped the swagman, leapt into the billabong,
"You'll never catch me alive," said he,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong,
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by the billabong,
"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me?"

The lyrics contain many distinctively Australian words, some now rarely used in Australian English outside this song. These include:

swagman
a man who travelled the country looking for work. The swagman's "swag" was a bed roll that bundled his
belongings.
waltzing
derived from the German term auf der Walz, which means to travel while working as a craftsman and learn new
techniques from other masters before returning home after three years and one day, a custom which is still in use
today among carpenters.
Matilda
a romantic term for a swagman's bundle.
Waltzing Matilda
from the above terms, "to waltz Matilda" is to travel with a swag, that is, with all one's belongings on one's back
wrapped in a blanket or cloth. The exact origins of the term "Matilda" are disputed; one fanciful derivation states
that when swagmen met each other at their gatherings, there were rarely women to dance with. Nonetheless, they
enjoyed a dance, and so they danced with their swags, which was given a woman's name. However, this appears
to be influenced by the word "waltz", hence the introduction of dancing. It seems more likely that, as a swagman's
only companion, the swag came to be personified as a woman.
Another explanation is that the term also derives from German immigrants. German soldiers commonly referred to
their greatcoats as "Matilda," supposedly because the coat kept them as warm as a woman would. Early German
immigrants who "went on the waltz" would wrap their belongings in their coat, and took to calling it by the same
name their soldiers had used.
billabong
an oxbow lake (a cut-off river bend) found alongside an undulating river.
coolibah tree
a kind of eucalyptus tree which grows near billabongs.
jumbuck
a large difficult to shear sheep, not a tame sheep. Implies that the sheep was not 'owned' by the squatter or
regularly shorn, thus not able to be stolen by the swagman.
billy
a can for boiling water in, usually 2-3 pints.
tucker bag
a bag for carrying food ("tucker").
troopers
policemen.
squatter
Australian squatters started as early farmers who raised livestock on land which they did not legally have the right to use; in many cases they later gained legal use of the land even though they did not have full possession, and became wealthy thanks to these large land holdings.

Still I'm Sad - Rainbow

Imi place foarte mult cantecul asta. Asa de mult incat am petrecut multa vreme pe net ca sa gasesc poze pentru a ilustra versurile sale .Am sa va ofer si traducerea versurilor in romana.

Still I'm Sad - Rainbow 

See the stars come falling down the sky
Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry
See the wind come, softly blow
Your hair from your face
And the rain comes falling down
In it's crazy way
Still I'm sad

For myself my tears just fall in the dust
As I search in the night and find they're lost
See the wind come gently blow
Time into my heart
And the rain comes falling down
While were apart
Still I'm sad

Oh my flowers, my tears are falling two days
They are driving the night profound, they are lost
Flower, flower the wind is blowing
Time into my heart
When the wind blows hard, we are apart
Still I'm sad

Oh, oh, oh, oh, still I'm sad
Oh, oh, oh, oh, how I'm sad

Traducerea mea, cat se poate de libera:
 

Uite cum cad stelele din cer

Trecand usor, iti usuca lacrimile cu sarutul lor

Uite, vine vantul, sufland usor

Parul de pe fata ta

Si uite cum cade ploaia

In felul ei nebunesc

Eu inca sunt trist.

Uite cum imi cad lacrimile in praf
Cum caut in noapte si nu le gasesc
Uite cum vine vantul sufland usor
Timpul din inima mea
Si ploaia cade intr-una
In timp ce noi suntem separati
Eu inca sunt trist

Oh, lacrimile-mi ca niste flori cad de doua zile
Fac noaptea mai neagra, pierdutele
Floare, floare, vantul bate
Timpul din inima mea
Cand vantul bate tare tu esti in departare
Eu inca sunt trist

Oh, oh, oh, oh, inca sunt trist
Oh, oh, oh, oh, cat de trist